Pritanic
by ShanaAlvarado29
Summary: Prideshipping-Titanic style. Seto Kaiba is the only one alive who knows where the fabled Heart of the Ocean medallion is. When Marik Ishtar discovers a strange vault within the ruins of the Titanic, Seto tells of a story about his first love, and gives a first-hand perspective of what had happened during the horrible night eighty-four years ago. Rating may go up in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi and Titanic was created by James Cameron. If there is any twists or anything that don't belong to either YGO or Titanic, then I own those, but that's about it. **

**A/N: Yep, this is it. If you've read my announcement upload, this is the Prideshipping in Titanic story. I call this creation Pritanic. Corny as hell, huh? Just so you know, I'm paraphrasing most of this first scene because it's been a while since I've watched the movie. So if anyone sees anything that seems off, please don't take off my head? Once I get to past this and into the chapters, I'll be more specific. **

* * *

**Prologue**

The small submarine plunged deeper into the black, frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Piercing bright lights scanned the expanse of the surrounding water in a slow, methodical manner. Fish of all sorts, crabs, moray eels, sea anemones, and a lone great white shark swam around the man-made machine, seemingly oblivious to the odd disturbance. The white light moved again, a little to the left, and shone on the dim silhouette of something large and decrepit. The years have not been kind to the obstacle. It was a ship, or rather, part of a ship. It was revealed to be only the stern of a massive steel, steamer ship.

The submarine threaded its way through the water, taking pictures on the inside of the ship, floating above the outside decks and continuing on inside, moving through what had once been the grand double doors to a grand ballroom. Video feed continued to be streaming toward the submarine's command tower, inciting massive excitement from the men watching a relatively small television screen while a burly man with a long, jet black ponytail on his head, which was otherwise bald was controlling a small joystick that maneuvered the submarine.

The video showed the remains of a ravaged bedroom suite. Robotic arms protruded from the front of the submarine, and the bald man controlled the arms as he moved aside a fallen door to uncover a medium-sized vault.

"That's it!" A man with sandy blond hair shouted excitedly. "That's the vault. Bring it up, Rishid." The man ordered, his excitement evident as he all but danced around the small control room. Even the sour-faced white-haired man in the corner could feel the blond man's infectious attitude and his lips curled into an answering grin that was reciprocated by all the other men in the room.

* * *

"The RMS Titanic was discovered by Professor Marik Ishtar after being lost for over eighty years at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, where it had sunk on April 15, 1912 during her maiden voyage from London to Boston."

An age-weathered hand moved toward the volume dial on the television set and rotated the dial clockwise, the volume becoming louder as an elderly man with stark white hair and intensely blue eyes watched the news intently.

A young man with tanned skin, long sandy-blond hair, and lavender eyes came on the screen, wearing a pathetically smug grin, was gloating about finding the rumored Titanic and showing off his prizes, however, there was a twinge of disappointment in his face when he discovered his true treasure was missing from the contents of the vault.

The elder man grinned conspiratorially, that was until he saw something that held him riveted.

A restored, yellowed sheet of parchment showed on the screen, featuring a very handsome young man drawn with charcoal and dated the night the Titanic had went down. An extremely talented hand had created the masterpiece, and the man modeling in the picture was completely naked aside from the large medallion hanging around his neck. The medallion featured the intricate carving of a snarling dragon outlined in white gold and filled in with a giant, cut blue diamond inlaid upon a gold base. Of course, the drawing was not nearly as specific in the details since there was no color used in the drawing…but Seto Kaiba didn't need a drawing to know what the Heart of the Ocean looked like…and what that particular medallion had a whole story behind it.

* * *

Marik Ishtar stood out on the launch deck of a large US Aircraft Carrier as he oversaw the preparations of launching yet another search to find the missing fabled Heart of the Ocean. He turned when he heard his name being called.

"Mister Ishtar, you have a call waiting for you in the control tower." Rishid called out.

"I'm a little busy right now." Marik replied in a clipped tone of voice.

Marik turned to dismiss Rishid when the taller man gripped his shoulder and turned him back around to face him, "No sir, you really want to take this call." Rishid insisted.

Seeing that Rishid wouldn't leave him is if he complied with his underling's insistence, Marik followed Rishid back to the control room, only half listening as Rishid prepared him for the call.

Once inside, Marik picked up the phone and placed it beside his ear, "Hello, this is Marik Ishtar. How may I help you…" He trailed off, looking toward Rishid to help him with a name. "Kaiba…Seto Kaiba." Rishid whispered back.

"Mister Kaiba."

"Yes. I was just wondering if you had found the Heart of the Ocean, Mister Ishtar?" The crackling masculine voice flowed over the receiver, startling Marik. True, Marik had been looking for the Medallion, but he had not allowed the public to hear of the true name of the Medallion he had been searching for for so long. So how did this man know anything about it? Marik glanced over at Rishid for a moment, who had a smug grin on his face, before turning back to the conversation.

"All right, you have my attention, Seto. Can you tell me who the man in the picture is?"

"Of course. The man in the picture is me."

* * *

Marik was extremely skeptic about this meeting. As he watched the helicopter land upon the deck of the Carrier, he couldn't help think this Kaiba character was playing him for a fool. He had believed that those who had survived the sinking of the Titanic were already dead and gone by now, and it seemed like too much of a coincidence that this Seto Kaiba would call him now to inquire about the Medallion better known as the Heart of the Ocean.

He watched as the door of the helicopter was slid to the side and a young man with a mop of disheveled raven hair hopped out before turning and holding out his arm. A well-aged hand came to rest atop the boy's forearm, and an elderly man stepped down out of the helicopter. At first glance, Marik made a quick critique about some of his suspicions. This man certainly appeared to be at least a hundred years old. Perhaps there was some truth to the elderly man's telling…either that or it had all been senile ranting.

"Welcome, Mister Kaiba." Marik called out as he came closer, "Please come this way and I will show you to your quarters."

The young man pushed the old man's wheelchair as he followed Marik through the narrow, winding corridors of the carrier until they came to an ajar door after a few moments of walking. Marik pushed the door open and the boy pushed the man inside, "I will help carry your luggage to you. Just make yourself comfortable in the meantime."

Marik entered Kaiba's quarters a little while later to find the man was placing several picture framed out on the nightstand. There was one with a younger looking Kaiba with one foot resting on the wing of a biplane, another picture of a slightly older Kaiba as he was riding a large bay gelding down a long stretch of a sandy beach at what appeared to be sunset. There was one with him holding a newborn child, and another where he's in the front seat of a Model T Ford Truck, both hands on the steering wheel as he grinned smugly at the camera. Marik turned his head to find the young man who was pushing the old man's wheelchair standing in front of a four-drawer dresser, putting away folded clothes.

"I hope everything is up to your standards, Mister Kaiba." Marik offered.

"Yes, it'll do." Kaiba replied brusquely, "By the way, this is my grandson, Mokuba." He introduced Marik to the raven-haired young man, who turned his head and nodded in greeting before turning to finish the task he had already begun.

"Well, if you'd be so inclined, Mister Kaiba, are you ready to talk about Titanic?" Marik asked.

* * *

The memories that this one drawing elicited were so fresh and bittersweet, that he had to swallow back a gasp of pain. A flash of intense crimson eyes flaring with an almost mischievous gleam slid from the paper and back to a young Kaiba. A slender, golden-copper hand moved in steady, fluid strokes, a small piece of charcoal gripped between his thumb and first two forefingers. Seto's breath hitched ever so slightly, but he passed it off as though he had been unaffected by the picture.

"Are you sure this is you, Grandpa?" Mokuba asked as he eyed the drawing as well, oblivious to the deep-seated ache forming in his grandfather's chest, and the tightness that was constricting his throat.

"Of course that's me." Kaiba replied, his voice a little huskier than usual, but the change in his tone was left undetected.

"So then you would know exactly where this is." Touzouku Bakura said, pointing to the medallion hanging around the neck of the young man in the drawing. "The man in this drawing was wearing that medallion on the same day as the Titanic had sunk."

Marik leaned down until he was eye-to-eye with Kaiba and grinned in a rather friendly way, although it was clearly feigned, "And that makes you, Kaiba, my new best friend."

* * *

In the control room, Bakura sits in front of a television screen, one finger pointing to a display of a three-dimensional version of the Titanic. "So here we are. The Titanic scrapes against the berg, going about twenty knots at the time. Sections of the ice are poking through the side of the stern like Mores Code." He began, and followed up by interactive sound effects of what he must have assumed was ice puncturing steel. "Now, as the stern begins to fill with water, the Titanic is only able to hold about three hundred gallons of water. When it reaches the maximum weight it can hold, what happens now? It splits." Again, another useless sound effect of cracking wood, "Right down the middle. Water begins to fill the front and it pulls the stern upright. The stem breaks away from the stern, and the stern bobs there like a buoy for a few minutes before it too is pulled beneath the surface. The stem sinks at about thirty miles an hour, plummeting to the bottom of the ocean, landing about fifty feet away from where the stern had fallen."

As Bakura spoke, the screen showed each sequence as it happened, with the Titanic breaking in half, the stem and stern both falling toward the bottom of the ocean, and Kaiba watched as the animation showed the stern crash into the bottom of the Atlantic, and the innermost portion of the stern that had once connected to the stem had collapsed inward at the impact.

"Pretty cool, huh?" The man asked.

Kaiba grimaced at the screen, "That was a very…interesting analysis, Bakura, however the way it happened as I remember it was…a little different."

"So tell us…" Bakura said, a little heatedly.

Kaiba glared at Bakura as his tone of voice. Even as old as the man was, his piercing cerulean eyes sent shivers down Touzouku's spine.

"Tell us, Kaiba." Marik interjected, elbowing Bakura in the ribs and glaring at him in a way that clearly said, "Behave, would you?"

"It's been eighty-four years-"

"That's fine. Just tell us what you can remember." Marik interrupted, misunderstanding what Kaiba meant by that comment.

Kaiba turned his glare to the blond, "Do you want to hear the story or not?" He waited for everyone to settle down and get comfortable before beginning again, "It's been eighty-four years, and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets have never been slept in. Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was, it really was."


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Enough said. If there is a slight alteration in the story, then I suppose I own those, but aside from that…nothing. **

**A/N: The italic dialogue is "Rose" speaking in narrative. Just a quick tip.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

The majestic vision of the RMS Titanic set in the London Harbor was breathtaking. The multitude of commoners and wealthy men, women, and children flocked to the sight of the majestic steel steamer that was rumored to be the largest luxury cruise ship in the world, and it was meant to have been known as the Unsinkable Ship.

Four towering smokestacks installed deep into the deck of the ship served as beacons from people to come and witness the launch of the Titanic's maiden voyage. All across the city of London, just with a glance toward the harbor, one could spot the smoke beginning to rise from the stacks. The deck was three stories tall, and passengers who had already boarded the ship were culminating at the rails, waving toward their friends and loved ones who still stood along the docks. A cherry wood Model T Ford truck was being raised into the air to be transported onto the ship to be taken with the truck's owners to America. Dogs rushed to and fro along the decks, barking and chasing their tails in circles, their voices being drowned out by the fervor of excited humans who were bustling about trying to find a spot on the portside of the Titanic.

Down on the docks, two Model T trucks with leather tarps stretched across the cabins of the interior threaded their way slowly through the throng of spectators and passengers until it came to a stop near the beginning of the inspection dock. Of course, considering that the people within these vehicles were wealthy beyond compare, they were not required to go through the inspection process.

The driver of the first Model T stepped down from his seat and moved toward the door of the compartment, swinging it open, and offered his hand. A white, silk, gloved hand reached out to grasp the driver's arm and a lovely young woman with long red hair and hazel brown eyes stepped down. Dressed in a knee-length white dress suit with thin black pin striping and a black empire belt around her slender waist, the woman held herself at high authority beneath the exterior façade of innocent meekness. A large white hat sat on top of her head, positioned off to one side in a way that shielded her face from the heat of the early Spring sun, never touching the woman's porcelain pale skin of her face.

Behind the young woman, a handsome young man with chestnut locks and breathtaking oceanic blue eyes emerged from the cabin, wearing a semi-casual black pantsuit with thin gray pin striping and a long black, cotton trench coat. The man's features were impeccable, his long, lean yet muscular frame turned many feminine heads, but the young man's expression warned anyone who had come close enough to notice to keep their distance. The man almost radiated borderline hostility, like a crouching tiger await his prey to come along and prance into his waiting trap.

His eyes scanned the exterior of the Titanic with a critical air, and he grunted in dissatisfaction as he turned to yet another man, this one in his mid-to-late forties, with graying salt-and-pepper hair, thick bushy eyebrows, and cold, cruel brown eyes.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania." The young man commented in a detached sort of way.

"Nonsense." The woman beside the young man interjected, "You can be blasé about some things, Seto, but not about Titanic. She's about a hundred feet longer than Mauretania. And far more luxurious."

Ignoring the woman's opinions, Seto Kaiba moved a little way away from the rest of his party, not catching, or perhaps simply not caring when his arranged fiancée Serenity Kawai whispered to Seto's step-father Gozaburo, "Your son is far too difficult to impress."

"He was merely being difficult." Gozaburo interjected, all the while sending his stepson a vicious glare that Seto could almost feel boring into his back, right between his shoulder blades.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable?" A black haired older woman commented as she too observed the exterior of the Titanic, but without any of the negativity Seto possessed.

"She is unsinkable. God himself could not sink this ship." Gozaburo announced boldly.

An ominous, wind began to blow, short-lived as it was, it felt frigid. Almost as though Gozaburo's challenge had been taken up by a higher deity.

Vivian Kaiba, the black-haired woman who was Seto's stepmother, led the way up the gangplank toward the doors that led into the ship.

"_Everyone referred to the Titanic as the Ship of Dreams, but to me, it was Hell on Earth. I was compelled to obey my stepfather's edicts to the letter to prevent the possibility of facing his borderline murderous wrath."_

* * *

The Titanic's bellowing horn sounded outside a small tavern near the seaport. The Titanic was well visible through the windows of the establishment.

Four young men gathered around a small, square table as the gambled with each other by playing at a game of poker. An older man with short red hair and slate gray eyes tipped the rim of his shot glass against his lips and drank down the amber whiskey inside. He slammed the empty glass down on the table before turning to his friend to his left, scolding the man in a foreign language that sounded like French. The pair bickered on as the other two men considered their hands and decided on their strategies.

On the other side of the table, a young man with blond hair and chocolate-brown eyes turned to his companion as his own doubts got the better of him.

"Atem, you bet everything we have." He whispered uneasily. Evidently he was not in possession of a favorable hand.

The young man named Atem held a short, burning cigarette between his lips. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before leaning closer to his friend, "If we have nothing left, we have nothing to lose." He murmured.

Joey Wheeler cocked an eyebrow at such odd reasoning, wondering for a moment if Atem was a little drunker than he had realized.

Along with Joey and Yami's collective monetary bets, two tickets to board the Titanic were also in the pot. Unbeknownst to Joey, Atem was determined to get his hands on those tickets. He rolled his cigarette between his fingertips as he stared at the tickets as though they were two large pieces of priceless gold. Dressed in a filthy white button down shirt, dark brown trousers that appeared to be about a size too large to fit Atem's slender yet firm body type. A pair of black suspenders kept his trousers up where they belonged, but the young man appeared to be in a perpetual state of hunger.

Aside from his peasant's appearance, Atem was an exotically handsome young man. He had rich, golden-copper skin, bright, beautiful scarlet eyes framed with dark, thick lashes and punctuated by his sharp cheekbones and defined jawline. Finely arched brows curved elegantly above his eyes, and he had his odd, wild, thick tri-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

His companion, Joey, was not too far behind Atem in attractiveness, but Joey's was more classic, pretty-boy rather than mysterious, exotic allure. Joey had thick, golden-blond hair, lovely chocolate eyes, deep tawny skin, and a generously masculine frame that promised intense power. He was dressed similarly to Atem, only that he wore black trousers that fit him better than Atem's.

While the Frenchmen were preoccupied by arguing with each other, Atem took the opportunity to trade in some of his cards for new ones in the hopes of building a better hand. Joey followed suit, and Atem took a deep inhale of his cigarette and exhaled the transparent, white smoke out from between his full lips. He pressed the tip of the cigarette deep into the ashes in the ashtray before he turned his attention back onto his opponents.

"All right, it's the moment of truth. Joey?"

Joey tossed his hand down in defeated insistence, a frown of disappointment and growing concern forming on his face.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Atem turned his gaze toward the Frenchmen, "Alastair?"

Again, Alastair threw his hand down, revealing a poorly formed hand.

Atem turned to take in the brunet at the table. This man had a muscular build and a dangerous aura surrounding him. With wild, spiked hair, gunmetal gray eyes, and muscles that were well-developed and sculpted, he was not one to make angry.

"Valon?"

Valon turned slightly in his chair before laying his cards out on the cable, revealing a two pair of Jacks and Fives.

"Uh-oh, two pair. I'm sorry Joey." Atem began in a convincingly fake defeated tone of voice.

"What do you mean you're sorry? You bet everything we have!" Joey demanded in a panic.

Atem set his hand on Joey's biceps to calm him, "I'm sorry Joey, but you're not going to see your family for a long time."

He let the realization sink in for a moment before he turned back to the two Frenchmen, "Because we're going to America! Full house, boys! Whoo-hoo!" Atem whooped in excitement.

Alastair hung his head while Valon looked at Atem and Joey in horror while Joey snatched up the two Titanic tickets and began waving them around. Atem continued to cheer loudly as he began to gather up the cash winnings still in the center of the table.

A hand shot out and gripped Atem by the collar of his shirt and Atem looked up to meet Valon's angry gaze. The man murmured something in French, but it didn't take a genius to understand what he meant. Atem braced himself for the blow, but when the sound of flesh slamming against flesh occurred but Atem felt no pain, he turned his head to see that Valon had changed his target and had slammed his fist into Alastair's face. Alastair's chair tipped over at the impact and had the redhead sprawled out on the floor. Atem laughed at the pair as Valon straddled Alastair's waist as he continued to pummel the other man over and over.

Atem turned back toward Joey and he swept the tickets out of the blond's hands before he brought them both to his lips and kissed them, "I'm going home!" He announced joyously.

The two men embraced, half hopping in their excitement, all but forgetting about Valon and Alastair still wailing on each other behind them.

"Can you believe it? I'm going to America!" Joey cried out. Joey was native in Spain, and this would be his first time in America.

There was a loud sound of someone clearing their throat behind the celebrating friends, "No, mate."

The pair turned to see that it had been the bartender who had been trying to get their attention, "Titanic goes to America in five minutes." He announced.

Atem turned and scooped the money they had won off of the table to where Joey caught the shillings in his hands before shoving the money into his pockets.

* * *

"We're riding in high style now!" Atem shouted as he and Joey ran full speed through the throng of spectators still collected on the docks. "We're a couple of regular swells. Practically almost goddamn royalty." He continued, his excitement tangible.

Both men had a medium-sized satchel that they looped over one shoulder, held in their grip so that they wouldn't drop their only articles of clothing or have them get stolen.

Joey agreed with Atem, inputting his own thoughts but in his native language. The pair ran in front of two tack horses, spooking the beasts but the momentary obstacle didn't serve to slow them down as they continued on toward the gangplanks.

Atem glanced over his shoulder to see that Joey was trailing slightly, "Come on, I thought you were fast!"

Atem grabbed onto the shoulders of a crewmember who was beginning the preparations of pulling in the gangplanks and shutting the doors to the ship.

"We're passengers." Atem insisted as he flagged down the man who was closing the door.

Atem and Joey bolted up the long bridge and were stopped at the door where another crewmember motioned for them to show him their tickets.

The man glanced over the tickets before returning his attention to Atem, "Have you been threw the inspection cube?" The crewman asked.

"Of course." Atem replied, sounding appalled that the question needed to be asked. "Besides we don't have any lice. We're Americans. Both of us." He continued.

"Right. Come aboard."

They didn't have to be told twice as Atem hopped across the space between the gangplank and the door with Joey right behind him.

They rushed through the tiny corridors of the common deck, Atem turned slightly toward Joey, "We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, you know that?"

The anchoring ropes were detached. The steamboat was pushing the gigantic steamer ship out away from the docks. The massive propellers began to rotate, slow at first but gradually beginning to spin faster and faster, kicking up mud beneath the rotors.

As the passengers up on deck waved enthusiastically toward the rest of the people still down on the docks, Atem and Joey slipped in between a small space against the railing. They shouted out their goodbyes to no one in particular, merely going with the flow as everyone else was doing.

"Good bye!" Atem shouted.

"Do you know somebody?" Joey asked, confused at Atem behavior.

"Of course not, but that's not the point." Atem replied, "Good bye." He called out again.

"So long! I'll never forget you!" Joey agreed as well, his hands nearly a blur as he waved farewell to the English people.

After the excitement of finally returning home to America had faded, Atem and Joey followed the signs through the maze of corridors, chanting the room number that he would be sharing with his best friend for the next week. He accidentally bumped into an older man, and he murmured an apology before resuming his search.

"Ah, here it is." He announced as he strolled inside like he owned the room.

"Hi, I'm Atem." He introduced himself to the two other men who were already in the room before them. "Nice to meet you." He murmured before he turned to find that Joey had helped himself to the top bunk of their bunk bed. Atem gave a light punch to the other man's shoulder before tossing his bag onto his mattress, oblivious to the speculative stares the other men were giving him as they wondered where Alastair and Valon were.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi and Titanic belongs to James Cameron. There are small tweaks that I make that do not belong to the movie Titanic, and those are mine, but that's about it. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"She's the largest steamer ship built by the hand of man in all of history. And her brilliant designer, Mr. Crawford here, designed her." An impeccably dressed, obviously wealthy man gloated.

"Ah, I am just an engineer, but the idea was Mr. Von Schroeder's. He envisioned a vessel so grand in scale that none other could ever surpass in size or luxury. And here she is," Pegasus Crawford retorted, attempting modesty, however the gleam in his doe brown eyes and the grin of delight on his face betrayed the pleasure wrought by Siegfried Von Schroeder's over-the-top praise.

Seto Kaiba, his adoptive parents, Seto's fiancée and her parents, Siegfried, Pegasus, and a hearty, spitfire woman named Mai Brown sat at a long rectangular oak table in the informal dining galley. It was afternoon luncheon, and the Kaibas, Kawaiis were rubbing elbows with the owner and chief engineer of the R.M.S. Titanic, and Mrs. Brown was Sir Crawford's friend and companion. Vivian found the woman uncouth and rowdy, referring to the younger woman as "new money". Seto couldn't help but like the woman. Her opinions were refreshing, and because she and her husband only recently received a windfall of money, her views on life were untarnished, unlike his stepparents' narrow-minded, holier-than-thou tendencies.

Despite Mai's company, however, Seto wad unbelievably bored, finding the gloating and under-the-table pissing contests dull and shallow.

Seto reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a long, slim, white cigarette and silver lighter. The waiter came to gather their orders, and after Seto ordered the sirloin with steamed vegetables, he lit his cigarette and replaced his lighter back inside his jacket pocket. Immediately after his first, long drag of the cigarette, Seto was alleviated of some of his stress.

"You know that I don't like that, Seto." Vivian whispered quietly, as though fearing if her voice was any louder that she would draw attention to him and his commoner habit.

In response, Seto turned his head and exhaled the mouthful of noxious smoke straight into her face. Vivian quickly turned away, waving her hand to erase the traces of the smoke.

He suddenly felt the cigarette being yanked out from between his fingers. Gozaburo had snatched it out from between his fingers and used Seto's steak that had been just set before the younger man and had gone unnoticed to put the cigarette out. The animosity in Seto's eyes as he glared venomously at his infuriating stepfather would have made a lesser man run shrieking.

However, Gozaburo was not a normal man, and he countered Seto's glare with his own, which promised the threat of bodily harm.

On the other side of the table, Mai glared disapprovingly at the dictatorial actions Gozaburo had made. Seto was a grown man, well able to make his own decisions. She watched as the young man rose to make his exit, and when he passed Mai, the woman slipped another cigarette into his hand. Yes, Seto had plenty of his own in his coat, but the symbolism behind the action hadn't gone unnoticed or unappreciated. He needed to know that at least one person in this world was still on his side.

* * *

A golden-copper hand glided over a yellowed sheet of thick parchment, slender fingers clenched around a thin piece of charcoal as a remarkably accurate depiction of a father standing behind his young daughter, the girl standing on the second railing, held steady by the man while he gestured toward the ocean below began to take form.

Atem could distantly hear Joey talking with another man around their age and looked up when he heard, "Do you make any money for your drawings?"

The man had long black hair tied back in a queue, deep green eyes, and was just this side of pale. He wore similar clothes like Atem and Joey's only his appeared newer and clean.

"It's one of many ways I get by. The name's Atem." He replied, offering his hand in greeting.

"Duke Devlin." The man replied, shaking Atem's proffered hand, "Do you travel much?" He wondered.

"You could say that. I'm a bit of a drifter." Atem admitted.

"Must be nice. Where have you been to?"

"Started out in America. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. I've been to London, Paris, Cairo, Peru, Barcelona, Copenhagen, Berlin, Poland…yeah, I've been around." Atem chuckled lightly as he realized how long his list was growing. "I met Joey here while in Spain."

Duke smiled, finding Atem's enthusiasm amusing, and he immediately took a liking to the man.

Atem noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, behind Duke's shoulder. A tall, well-dressed man wearing a black, pinstriped suit, white, silk shirt, and black necktie came to lean against the railing two decks higher than the one Atem was currently on. He had a wealth of thick, chestnut hair atop his head, and medium tawny skin peeked out becomingly from his cufflinks and collar, the stark paleness of his skin against the bold, dark fabric of his clothes was fetching and gave the man an edge of exoticness. He couldn't see what color the man's eyes were, but nevertheless, he was breathtaking.

Atem was bisexual, but preferred the company of men for the most part. He certainly had an eye for art and that man was poetry in flesh and blood.

Atem didn't realize he had been staring when Duke turned to see what held Atem so enraptured. Duke smirked and chuckled teasingly, "Ah, forget it boyo. The stars would fall from the heavens far more likely than you would have a chance with the likes of him."

Atem ignored Duke's comment, and when Joey passed a hand in front of Atem's face, the two men laughed when the action failed miserably to break Atem's focus.

* * *

Seto felt as though someone was watching him. He stood leaning against the railing as he was smoking the cigarette Mai had given him. God knows he needed the relief that the nicotine offered, and his stress seemed to melt away with each draw on the cigarette.

It was only around his third drag that he felt the prickling sensation of someone staring at him. He turned his head to the left and immediately, his oceanic eyes clashed with exotic crimson. The strange man was sitting near the starboard railing on a bench with some sort of portfolio in his lap. The man was ragged in appearance but he was relatively well kempt. Peculiar tri-colored hair, the majority of the strands were black, but streaks of red and gold intermingled within the mass, pulled back into a neat queue at the nape of his neck, leaving his sharp features and beguiling scarlet eyes on full display.

Seto should feel appalled at being the center of such intense interest by some strange man, however it was the odd sense of fluster, the peculiar perk in his heartbeat at the intensity in those eyes that had the corners of his mouth turn slightly upward.

The man leaned forward until his elbows were braced on his knees, a light smirk curved across his lips. It was not a lustful expression, but too intrigued to be simply curious. It was a similar expression to how a child looked on Christmas morning.

Seto was suddenly jerked around to come face-to-face with Gozaburo, who looked beyond furious with him, "What exactly do you expect to gain through your humiliating display back in the dining room. Your little temper tantrums are becoming tiresome, Seto, and I am merely a handbreadth away from teaching you a lesson that I believe is long overdue. Now, get back inside and apologize to your mother." Gozaburo demanded.

"That woman is not my mother, and I am allowed free-reign in whatever I choose to do regardless of your delicate sensibilities or petty demands. You don't frighten me, old man." Seto barked.

Gozaburo's expression drew together like thunderclouds, promising repercussion, "Go. Inside." He hissed before he shoved Seto roughly back toward the dining galley, leaving no room for argument.

* * *

Seto felt like he was being suffocated slowly, what with all the mindless, pointless yammering of the folk in the dining hall for supper. It was pathetic how much stock they all put into themselves, their family names, or their family businesses. Seto was loath to admit that his stepparents were included in this category, and not even Mai Brown could alleviate much of Seto's agitation at the world in general, and his life in particular.

The hours until Seto would be forced to marry Serenity Kawai in the name of "rescuing" the Kaiba family was putting Seto on edge nearly every waking minute and even during his sleeping hours has Seto feeling smothered and enraged at the total lack of consideration for his own future.

Seto, as politely as he could manage, excused himself from the table and left the dining hall, heading up to the main deck to get some fresh air. It was past midnight and the cold air felt blissfully pleasant against his skin, and Seto shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the rail, gripping the metal tightly and lowering his head. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, he dug out a cigarette and his lighter.

His life had gotten out of his hands. He didn't know where everything had gotten so out of hand. When he had been eight years old, he had been orphaned after his parents had died from bouts of influenza. He had then been adopted by Gozaburo and Vivian Kaiba after the couple had lost their own son, and saw intellectual potential that could become the heir to the Kaiba's family business. Life had not been quite so bad until Vivian's impulsive spending and Gozaburo gambling had threatened to make the Kaibas bankrupt. The Kawais were a prominent, wealthy, titled family and they had arranged an engagement between Seto and the Kawais only daughter in order to become the benefactors of the Kawai's fortune. It was selfish, greedy, and despicable…and Seto has no choice but to obey his stepparents' edicts.

Just as it had happened that afternoon, Seto was gripped around his biceps and spun around to face Gozaburo. He barely made eye contact with the older man when Gozaburo's fist connected with the side of Seto's face.

"I owe you for that stunt you pulled during lunch, you ungrateful sod." Gozaburo snarled before he slammed his fist once more into Seto's abdomen hard enough to make his double over in pain.

One more punch sent Seto over the railing, and he grabbed hold of the railing, looking up in shock at Gozaburo. A malicious smirk pulled at the old man's mouth, "Show me that you are worthy of being left alive." Gozaburo growled before he turned and left Seto hanging off of the bow of the Titanic.

"Don't you dare leave me here like this, you bastard!"

* * *

Atem lay stretched out on a bench up on the deck, staring up at the stars overhead, a lit cigarette gripped loosely between his lips, his mind preoccupied with the events he had seen that afternoon.

The young man he had spied out on the deck had captured his complete attention since the moment that he stepped into Atem's line of sight. The interest increased exponentially when the man had turned his head to look back at Atem and the two stared back at each other, their eyes locked. Atem's breath had caught when he been caught in those cerulean depths, but the moment had been broken far too quickly when another, older man came and forcibly made the man return inside.

The way that young man's face had darkened with hatred, and how the older man's features became closed with fury, Atem couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going on between them. Although the matter was none of Atem's business, Atem had witnessed many horrible things in his travels, and had come to recognize the warning symptoms of a greater maelstrom that was brewing just below the surface.

Atem pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, exhaling a gust of smoke before he sat up and leaned forward to prop his elbows onto his knees. He needed to forget about the man from that afternoon. Duke had been correct. Atem was a poor drifter, selling his drawings and performing odd jobs just to get from place to place. That man, he was completely out of his league. They might have had a momentary connection that afternoon, but even so, the man was obviously wealthy and by tomorrow morning, would most likely completely forget that Atem even existed.

Sighing in uncharacteristic defeat, he stood and threw his cigarette over the rail to let it fall into the Atlantic Ocean before turning to go back inside.

He had only taken a few steps before he picked up on the slight stirrings of an intense argument echoing near the bow of the ship. Against his common sense, Atem slowly began to follow the direction the disturbance.

He reached the bow of the ship, but found it void of life.

"Hello?" He called out, his eyes scanning the expanse of the deck before his eyes fell to the hands gripping tightly to the bottom rung of the railing. "Ah, hell." He breathed.

Atem rushed over to the railing and peered down for a moment to gauge the situation. The man hanging off the back of the ship was not looking up, he looked like he could only hang on for a bare few minutes. Atem climbed over the railing, threading his leg around the lower two rungs before gripping the man's wrist tightly.

Cerulean blue eyes snapped up to meet Atem's crimson, wide with fear, anger, shock, and determination.

"I've got you." Atem assured the man, "Come on, pull yourself up."

The man began to use the side of the bow to help Atem as he pulled the man up a little. The soles of the man's shoes slipped and he fell a few inches, He grunted as his shoulder was jarred painfully, his shoulder dislocating, at taking the brunt of the other man's weight, but Atem held on tight.

With his leg firmly bracing his own weight, Atem lowered his other hand to take hold of the man's other hand. Atem's muscles bulged as he pulled with all of his might, with a little assistance from the other man. Atem dragged the man up until his feet could touch the deck.

Neither of them breathed easily until both had both of their feet firmly planted upon the deck and the correct side of the railing.

Atem and the other man both collapsed, their legs giving out once the adrenaline of the near-death experience ran dry.

Neither man spoke, both breathing heavily, Atem clutching his injured shoulder with his good hand, the pain multiplied.

"Thank you." The other man finally said.

"You're welcome, but I must say that you should probably not execute a repeat performance of tonight's events." Atem said, chuckling lightly.

"It was not my inclination to have gone through the experience the first time." The man retorted sharply.

"I suppose one would be insane to try jumping off of the back of a ship on purpose." Atem replied, pushing himself up onto his feet. He offered his hand to the man, "The name's Atem."

"Why would I care what your name is?" The man snapped.

"We common folk have a thing called common courtesy. I supposed the same would be true for you as well." Atem retorted.

The man got to his feet as well, glaring down at Atem before nodding, "Seto Kaiba."

Atem nodded, grinning slightly, "It was interesting to make your acquaintance."

"You are really too cheeky for your own good." The man named Seto snarked.

"That's your opinion." Atem shrugged before turning to leave Seto to his business when a new voice rang out through the air between them.

"Arrest that man. He tried to murder my son."


End file.
